


DRAMA

by Setkia



Series: it's okay to not be okay [7]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Identity Reveal, Insecure!Peter, Kissing, M/M, Peter's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 18:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17411900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setkia/pseuds/Setkia
Summary: So … Peter fucked up.Which, really, isn’t like, headline breaking news or anything. As a young adult, it is part of the unwritten, yet totally official contract of adult-ing that you must— and will— fuck up enough times to regret your date of birth. Ever since the Bite the amount of fuck-ups in Peter’s life has drastically increased, and shows no signs of going down, butthis?Thishas to be the biggest fuck-up to date and that’s saying something.





	DRAMA

_Recently he said, that she said, that we said some shit that you wouldn’t believe_  
_Recently he said that she said that we said that he said some shit about me  
_ _So we’re caught up in drama (Everybody’s talking, Everybody’s talking)_

—AJR, _Drama_

So … Peter fucked up.

Which, really, isn’t like, headline breaking news or anything. As a young adult, it is part of the unwritten, yet totally official contract of adult-ing that you must— and will— fuck up enough times to regret your date of birth. Ever since the Bite the amount of fuck-ups in Peter’s life has drastically increased, and shows no signs of going down, but _this_? _This_ has to be the biggest fuck-up to date and that’s saying something.

His phone is lighting up with notifications. Nat, Steve, Tony, Bruce, fucking _everyone_ is texting him, saying the merc has crashed in through the window, demanding to see him. Fury is … well, furious.

Collapsing on his bed, Peter shields his eyes with his arm and breathes in deeply.

He almost wants to laugh because _how the fuck did he end up in this situation?_

He had been avoiding homework, like any university student, when Tony had texted him. Said there was something super important going on near Wall Street, as if there wasn’t _always_ something important happening on Wall Street, but he jumped out the window anyway after suiting up.

The baddies weren’t even all that bad, but of _course_ things took a turn south, because when did they ever not?

_  
“On your left, Spider-Man!”_

_Shooting a web in the direction Hawkeye told him, his efforts were rewarded with a gruntas the attacker fell to the ground. Swinging from a tree, he tried to get a higher view of the situation. It wasn’t so much that they were difficult opponents, as there was so many of them._

_He aimed at another of latest experiments gone wrong from one of the many disastrous science companies in New York (honestly, he wasn’t sure why they kept getting funding when there was a break-in or explosion every other week), when his target was swept off their feet literally by a familiar black and red suit._

_“Deadpool?!”_

_“Spidey!” greeted the infamous mutant. “How’s it hanging?”_

_“Really?”_

_“Overused pun?”_

_It was times like these, when he found Wade’s stupid jokes to be endearing rather than irritating, while in the presence of the Avengers, that he was grateful for his mask. “What are you doing here?”_

_“Same as you.”_

_BANG!_

_One of the targets fell to its side. “Helping out a bit. Felt like playing ‘good samaritan’.”_

  
Everything kind of went to hell after that. Partly because the Merc was there, but mostly because he was pumped full of adrenaline and wasn’t thinking straight so when the final enemy fell, Peter had a moment of pure stupidity.

He kissed Deadpool.

Technically, this isn’t a problem. It’s not their first kiss. They have been seeing each other for the past two weeks, though there’s still the looming question of when date number two will be finalized. Wade’s been dropping by the lab to check on Peter, to talk and keep him company,before being carefully shoved out the window whenever Tony comes by, and he’s snuck in a few other cheek kisses. On one notable occasion, he got a kiss on the forehead.

Point is: Wade’s kissed Peter’s forehead and now, as far as the mutant knows, some unknown man in spandex had just planted one on him.

So of course Peter did the smart thing and ran.

As one of the only heroes in New York to maintain a secret identity, complications are bound to arise. He knows he should’ve told Wade, but when compared to Spider-Man, Peter Parker doesn’t even hold a candle, which doesn’t make sense, especially since they’re the same person, but it certainly doesn’t feel that way. More like he shares a body with a much more suave version of himself, one who knows witty comebacks and doesn’t choke on his own spit whenever someone calls him “cute”, on the rare occasion such a thing even happens.

In the end, he’s going to prefer Spider-Man.

He always has.

And while that’s kind of great, it means he doesn’t really like Peter. Not that he can blame him. The whole superhero thing may be the only thing he’s got going for him. Behind the mask he’s such a disaster, he’d be lucky if anyone considered him date-worthy. 

He awaits the break-up text, though he’s not sure if it’s a break-up if they’ve just been on one date, and don’t hold the title of “boyfriend”. He’s not losing anything, not really. Not a title, not a place in Wade’s life. The Merc will still flirt with Spidey, but … Oh, he’s going to have to shut him down. He’ll be so disappointed when he finds out who he is, and it’s not like he can just date someone with a mask on forever, though he would if he could. The mask transforms him into a better version of himself. 

He can’t be the one to end it. Maybe that makes him a masochist.

Heh. A sadist and masochist. He and Wade really are meant to be in that fucked up way that always works in the movies, but never in real life.

His phone rings.

Taking a deep breath, he presses _answer_.

“Hey, Petey?”

The student gulps. He’s not ready for this— whatever “this” is— to end, but he knows it will. It has to. And then he’ll have to cut his ties with Wade as Spider-Man too, and that’s a whole other kind of pain, because Peter’s pretty sure Wade is one of his only friends with superpowers. He never feels right with Tony, or Steve. They’re great and all, but they don’t understand him. Maybe it’s because the mutant’s a child trapped in a bodybuilder, but he makes him feel at ease unlike anyone else. Kinda of concerning considering the man’s impressive gun collection. As both a euphemism and a literal fact.

“Yeah?”

“I have something to tell you.” He sounds pretty upset. He wants to scream that he’s not allowed to be, that it’s _Peter’s_ heart that’s crashing to the floor, but he bites his lip, letting out a sound of acknowledgement. “You see …” _Like a band-aid, rip it off._ Peter’s always known Wade to be morally grey, the Canadian has never been coy about his bullet-holed record, but this is a new level of cruel. “The thing is— are you okay?”

Peter swallows down a whimper. Of course he’s concerned about him, because Wade fucking Wilson, for all his chimichangas and swear words is an honest to God good person, no matter what he thinks. He kind of wishes the man was an asshole. It would certainly make this easier.

“Yeah.”

“The fuck you are.”

Pinching his nose, the brunet takes several deep breaths. “What did you have to tell me, Wade?”

“Hey, you’re not okay, baby boy. One thing at a time. I don’t usually focus well, but shit, you sound like a wreck. What’s going on?” He sounds so concerned because Deadpool is much nicer than anyone has ever given him credit for. 

“It’s nothing.”

“Yes, and my drag name is Deep End Summers.”

“Is it?”

“No, it’s Blue Blazen Balls, but that’s not the point!” There’s movement on the other end followed by the sound of a gunshot. “Sorry, some fucker just laughed at my name. As if he could do better.” 

_So he’s in some alleyway on a job then._

“Do you want me to come over? Wait, I don’t know where you live … which, you should take to mean my stalker tendencies have gotten less severe, so really I should get an applause for that. But anyway, this feels like one of those moments where the author’s trying to segue to me being on your balcony like this is some Romeo and Juliet bullshit, so I’m on my way.”

“But—”

“Nope, the Fanfic Gods have spoken, I’m coming. I’ll find you, somehow. Ooh, that sounded romantic in my head, but now feels more like a rejected _Every Breath You Take_ lyric. I’m just turning this whole call into a disaster. Be there as fast as the author wants me to be.”

The dial tone sounds.

Seems he’s not catching a break today.

He plans it out in his head, what he’s going to say, how he’s going to react. As much as he doesn’t want to, he’s probably going to cry, so he tries to make himself cry before Wade gets here. Get it over with and all that. Maybe if he cries enough, he’ll get so tired he just passes out and they’ll have a rain check.

Though all that does is prolong the inevitable.

Because his eyeballs are stubborn assholes, he can’t trigger tears on command, so instead he listens to music, trying to drown out the rest of the world as he tries to get his shit together.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when a familiar mask suddenly presses up against his window.

“Petey!”

Unlatching the window, he rolls his eyes. “Didn’t feel like breaking in?”

“What kind of person would I be if I destroyed my bae’s property? Oooh, is that _Hamilton_? Saw it with this blonde chick. Stopped her from jumping. It was a good, sentimental issue. Check it out, remember my humanity every now and then even when I can’t.”

Sometimes Peter has no idea what Wade talks about, but he’s going to miss the confusion and excitement that comes whenever he hears his open his mouth.

“You haven’t been crying.”

It’s not a question.

“No.”

“But you tried to. Who made you wanna cry? And were they sad tears, or like, I’m pissed as all hell tears?”

Peter moves to the side and gestures for the man to come in instead of dangling outside like some 2002 superhero in the rain. The mercenary tumbles in, before standing upright and putting his hands on his hips like he’s posing for a photoshoot or something.

“No one. You wanted to talk?”

“I …” Wade frowns. “This is kind of complicated, and you don’t look like you’re in a good position to hear it—”

“I’m nineteen, not a baby.”

“I know that, I just …” He plays with his gloved fingers. There are darkened areas of his suit. He wonders how bloody Wade is. How well the red covers the bloodstains. “Okay, I’m going to tell you now, and then we’re gonna get back to the whole, you trying to make yourself cry, okay? Cause you’re absolutely beautiful and you’d still be beautiful with puffy eyes, but I’d prefer if they weren’t, got that?”

He nods, because what else can he do?

“Okay. So, the thing I meant to tell you over the phone, which, now that I think about it, it was douchey to think I could do it over the phone, cause I mean, I’m an asshole, but I’m not _that_ much of an asshole, so here we go.” Wade takes a deep breath, and then—

_“ImayhavekissedsomeoneelsebutittotallywasntmyfaulthecameontomewhichcanyoubelievewhenIlooklikethisbutithappenedandImreallysorrypleasedontkillmeevenifIcantdieitwouldstilltotallysucktonotdieonmyownterms.”_

Peter blinks. 

“ _That’s_ what you’re focusing on?”

Wade tilts his head. “Was there something else I should’ve been concerned with?”

“I mean … well …”

“You okay there?”

“I just …” 

This is not going the way Peter predicted. Because of course it isn’t. It’s _Wade_. It’s foolish to assume the Canadian follows any of the normal laws of how relationships work.

“Now, why were you crying? Or not crying. Or trying to cry, and not succeeding?”

“Er …” He’s too shocked to do much else than stare so he blinks a few times and then mutters something about forgetting it. He’ll tell him later.

Or rather, Wade’ll break up with him later.

Seems he’s getting that rain check after all.

  
It’s been a few days, and Wade still hasn’t broken up with him. Or, ended whatever they are.

He’s waiting for the ball to drop, and it’s an anxiety that eats at him. It’s disrupting his sleep schedule and Tony’s starting to notice. He’s lucky he hasn’t actually swung right into a building, though at this rate, he expects it to happen soon.

He’s on night patrol when Deadpool turns up, swords in each hand, though they don’t look nearly as bloody as usual.

“You got a job?”

“Yeah,” says Wade. “Mind helping me with it?”

“I don’t kill—”

“Not the kind of job I was talking about.”

And then the swords are in their sheaths and he’s walking closer to the brunet at a speed that’s achingly slow, but also alarmingly fast and he’s pressed up against an alleyway.

“What are you— _omph!_ ”

Deadpool is kissing him.

He’s got his hands on his head, holding him in place, a leg positioned right at his crotch as if to keep him from running. As if he can do anything other than stand there, stupefied. Their lips glide over each other, and Peter hates how easily he melts into it, how hard he tries to memorize it because this is probably the last kiss he’s going to get before Wade decides to end things with Peter to start something with Spider-Man, and he’ll have to stop that and—

Thinking is overrated when you’re making out with Wade fucking Wilson.

The kiss feels like an eternity, and a nanosecond all at once. 

“Hey, Petey.”

It takes way too long for his brain to catch up with the words coming out of the Canadian’s mouth, but when they finally do, he tries to back himself up and hits a literal wall. 

“Er, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Took too long a pause for that to be even remotely convincing.” He grins, stepping closer, if possible. “Listen, I get why you didn’t tell me. Secret identities? Those are important, when you have someone you want to protect. I don’t have anything like that so … you know, s’why I’m public. But you … shit, you’ve got a whole life outside of this.”

“Wade, I—”

“Your secret’s safe with me. I know I’ve got a gob, but I can keep it shut for the right price. And lucky you, you don’t have to pay a cent. Also, if you want to er … end this, or whatever, cause it’s getting a bit complicated, that’s fine too.

“I mean, the voices are telling me it’s not, but ignore them. Must be easier, since you can’t hear ‘em.”

He’s kind of speechless, but he manages to choke out one word. “How?”

“How what?”

“How’d you know … how’d you know it was me?”

“Would it sound cheesy if I said it was your kiss?” Wade shakes his head. “Doesn’t really matter if you think it is, cause it’s basically what happened. I’m not dumb, contrary to what others seem to think. I’ve got deductive skills to kick Holmes’ ass. Metaphorically. And the strength to do it physically. So do you, since he’s fictional and all.”

They fall into silence.

It’s clearly killing Wade, who keeps hopping from one foot to another, unsure of what to do with himself.

“So, no pressure or anything, but what to do … about … us. If there’s an us. If there ever was an us. If there’s still an us after the author turns my silver tongue into copper— oh that’s bad. Think of better shit, I’m trying to seduce fucking Spider-Man!”

Peter’s small smile falls. “Right. Spider-Man.”

Wade cocks his head to the side. “Huh?”

“You want Spider-Man.”

“Er, yes. Unless you misinterpreted me slamming you against a wall and molesting your face. Which, I realize I shouldn’t have done because consent. Just cause you let me do it before does not mean you’d let me do it in the future. And if I had been wrong, that would’ve been _really_ embarrassing—”

“What about Peter?”

“Do you refer to yourself in the third person too? I’m not the only one who does that—”

“No, I mean what about _Peter_. You want Spider-Man. But how do you feel about Peter?”

It takes a while, but slowly realization seems to dawn in the white slits of the mask. “You think … oh. Okay. Give me a second while I figure out how to word this in a way that makes sense, alright?”

Wade takes a few deep breaths.

“It’s like this. I like Spider-Man. You _know_ I like Spider-Man. And who wouldn’t? He’s cool and confident and sassy as hell, and he gets my type of dark humour. He’s dry and sarcastic, not to mention has a fantastic ass. But I don’t _know_ Spider-Man. I liked what I saw, and trust me, I still like it.

“But you? Peter, you’re _real_. Spider-Man disappears once the city’s safe, but you stay. You’re awkward and shy, and you’ve got this adorable laugh, and you’re _brilliant_. Don’t think I miss how geniuses flock together, there’s a reason Stark likes you.

“Spider-Man is there for _everyone_. He’s there for New York. Peter Parker … you’re here for me. And I like that. A lot. It’s kind of a bonus you turned out to be the same person, but Spider-Man was hero worship. You’re … I don’t know. _Not_ that. You’re deeper. 

“I like you, the person behind the mask. I also happen to like you in the mask. But there aren’t two of you, there’s just _you_. And you’re kind of amazing, if you haven’t read your own serial? Am I making any sense? I’m probably not—”

“No, you are. Sort of.” Peter laughs nervously. “Anyone ever tell you you’re crazy?”

The mutant shrugs. “Every now and again. Question is, are you gonna follow me into insanity, Peter?”

Oh. No pet names. This is serious.

It’s frightening too. His secret identity is something he’s held onto for his own sanity. Humbled himself with it, made sure he could balance his life out. So he didn’t have to sacrifice anything. Letting the Merc know about it feels like a huge step. A bigger step than admitting he likes him.

“Yeah. I think I will.”

It doesn’t feel as scary as it’s supposed to.


End file.
